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Nano Seconds

It seems as if I have been tired for aeons.
I can't count nano seconds
but if I could I would give
a nano amount.
Yesterday like Rip Van Winkle
I fell asleep for a hundred years
but only woke with wrinkles
and my hair touched
just the tips of my shoulder blades.

I have been a somnambulistic
dreamer on stilts,
walking with butterflies
and lying low, just beyond
the periphery of real life.

I have slept longer
than any terracotta army,
each face
carved into individual expression,
just to be discovered
by a farmer with a plough.

I miss the narcisistic sleep
that keeps me in a trance
a slow waltz dance
a foot wrong,
sore feet
and the bleating of a beat.

Poetry by Elle